Friends, Lovers...And Babies! (The Baby Bet #2)

by Joan Elliott Pickart

“Well, how do you vote?” Ryan said. “Would you like to go dancing, Deedee?”

  “Oh, my, it’s been so long since I’ve danced.” She paused. “Let’s see, it must be a dozen or fifteen years. Do you suppose it’s something that you don’t forget, like riding a bike? Well, if I trample your toes, we’ll know the answer to that one.”

  “Twelve or fifteen years?” Ryan repeated. “Didn’t you and your husband ever go dancing?”

  Deedee refolded her napkin in a precise square, giving the task her full attention.

  “No,” she said, smoothing the corners of the linen. “No, we didn’t.” She looked at Ryan again. “Did you and Sherry go dancing often?”

  Ryan frowned. “No. Now that I think about it, I realize that I never danced with Sherry.” He smiled. “I have a feeling it may be your toes that are at risk here. Are you game?”

  Deedee matched his smile. “Sure. If we both hobble home, we’ll have no one to blame but ourselves.”

  The waiter returned with a leather folder, which he placed by Ryan. While Ryan settled the bill, Deedee’s mind wandered.

  She’d never danced with Jim, she thought, and Ryan had never danced with Sherry. Therefore, Deedee Hamilton dancing with Ryan MacAllister was an event, a memory in the making, that was exclusively theirs with no ghosts from the past hovering around. She liked that.

  You should be dancing with butterflies.

  Ryan’s words echoed in her mind, and the warmth she’d felt tiptoeing around her heart when he’d said them returned with greater intensity.

  Dancing with butterflies.

  Oh, what a beautiful image that created. She could see herself on a sunny summer day, the sky a brilliant blue, and she was wearing a pretty dress. She was… yes, in a field of gorgeous, fragrant wildflowers, and a multitude of delicate, vibrantly colored butterflies were fluttering around her. Ryan was there, and they were smiling.

  They were happy and carefree.

  They were together.

  “All set?” Ryan said.

  Deedee jerked at the sudden sound of his voice, instantly aware of the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks for having indulged in such a whimsical and ridiculous daydream.

  “You’re blushing,” Ryan said.

  “It’s the brandy,” she said, pushing back her chair. “Brandy does that to me—makes my cheeks pink. Strange, isn’t it? Happens every time.”

  “Mmm, I see,” he said, raising one eyebrow. “Is that a fact?”

  “Yep.” She smiled brightly.

  The Malibu Ballroom was fairly crowded, but Ryan managed to find a free table among those edging the dance floor. Crystal chandeliers had been dimmed to create a romantic glow of soft light. The five-piece band started playing a waltz just as they arrived.

  Deedee set her purse on the chair by the minuscule table, and Ryan flipped a plastic sign in a holder to Reserved. They maneuvered their way onto the dance floor, and he drew her into his arms.

  As they began to move with the lovely, lilting music, Deedee allowed her lashes to drift slowly down, savoring the moment.

  Heavenly, she thought dreamily. Being held fast in Ryan’s arms was wonderful. They danced marvelously together, as though they’d been partners on many dance floors in the past.

  But, no, there was no past, not tonight. There was no future, not tonight. There was only now, just tonight.

  Deedee sighed in contentment and nestled closer to Ryan’s powerful body.

  Ryan drew a quick, sharp breath as Deedee wiggled against him.

  Control, MacAllister, he ordered himself. Dancing had not been one of his brightest ideas. His body was going crazy with Deedee molded to him, the heat within him causing him to ache with the want of her.

  Man, she felt sensational, Ryan thought. She fit so perfectly into his arms, against his body, as though she’d been custom-made just for him.

  He inhaled her flowery aroma, then dipped his head so her silky curls could whisper against his face. He was going up in flames, but he’d die with a smile.

  Deedee felt so delicate, so fragile, so incredibly feminine.

  He was dancing with a butterfly.

  The waltz ended and the band immediately began to play another slow song. An invisible hand somewhere lowered the glow of the chandeliers another notch. Ryan’s hold on Deedee tightened a fraction more.

  He attempted to center his mind on the discussion that had taken place with Deedee during dinner, to determine his progress toward getting her to reevaluate her life. He gave up the effort as a lost cause.

  He couldn’t think, he could only feel.

  The hell with it, he decided. He was giving his rational mind the rest of the night off. For the remaining hours he was with Deedee, he wouldn’t dwell on the past, or on his loyalty to Sherry. The future, too, would be a taboo subject.

  For once in his life, on this night, he was going to simply be. He was a man in the company of a lovely and desirable woman. Events would be allowed to unfold with no resistance, no guilt, no ghosts. One stolen night. So be it.

  “I guess we remembered how to dance,” Deedee said softly.

  “Yes, we did,” he said, “and we fit together very nicely. You feel good in my arms, Deedee.”

  “It’s nice being here.”

  They swayed to the dreamy music. The other people on the dance floor seemed to fade into oblivion. There was only the two of them in an otherworld place, where nothing could intrude.

  Heated desire swirled within Deedee, pulsing low in her body, and she welcomed it, rejoiced in it. She was so vitally alive. She was woman. This night was special, rare, magical, and hers.

  She could feel Ryan’s arousal pressing against her, knew he wanted her just as she desired him. The knowledge wasn’t frightening, it was wondrous.

  “Deedee, “ Ryan said, his voice low and gritty, “can you feel what you’re doing to me?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “I think we should…Hell, I can’t think, I’m beyond thinking. All I know is that I want you, want to make love with you. I ache for you. It’s not fair to dump a decision of this magnitude on you, but I have to. It’s up to you, Deedee. You’re going to have to decide how this night will end.”

  Deedee tilted her head back to meet his gaze, knowing the raw desire she saw in his expressive brown eyes was evident in her own.

  “This night,” she said, “is ours. It’s a magical night, Ryan, stolen out of time. We’re Cinderella and the prince at the ball. One night. Just one. Ours.” She drew a trembling breath. “Let’s go home…together.”

  During the drive to Deedee’s apartment, she mused rather hazily that if she truly wished at some subconscious level to change her mind about making love with Ryan, the reality of a ride across town in a Jeep would jar her sense of reasoning.

  But the fleeting thought was there, then gone. She focused on the moment, adamantly refusing to address anything else.

  This was their magical night, hers and Ryan’s. Nothing mattered beyond the two of them, and what they were going to share.

  Deedee had left a small lamp on in the living room, and the soft glow of light greeted them as they entered the apartment.

  When Ryan shut the door, he snapped the lock into place, then quickly shifted in front of Deedee. Startled by his sudden movement, she stepped backward, thudding against the door.

  Ryan planted his hands on either side of her head, lowered his own head and kissed her deeply. His tongue plummeted into her mouth and she met it eagerly, dueling, stroking. He kept his body tantalizingly inches away from her.

  Deedee curled her hands into fists at her sides, resisting the urge to reach for Ryan and pull him near, to feel his magnificent body pressed to hers.

  He lifted his head to draw a ragged breath, then slanted his mouth in the other direction, capturing her lips once again. A quivering whimper of need escaped from Deedee’s throat.

  The heat grew low within her. It matched the maddening rhythm of Ryan’s tongue moving
seductively against hers. She was on fire, melting, moist, aching for release and fulfillment.

  It was heaven and it was hell, in the same breathless moment.

  Unable to restrain herself a second longer, she raised her hands to splay them on the hard wall of Ryan’s chest, then lifted them an instant later to encircle his back, silently pleading with him to come closer.

  He complied, molding his body to hers, his arousal full and heavy against her. The kiss deepened even more. It was hungry, urgent, fanning the flames of passion even higher and hotter.

  Ryan finally tore his mouth from Deedee’s, his breathing rough.

  “Deedee,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears, “I want you. Now. Are you sure, really sure, about this? Have you thought—”

  She quieted his words by placing two fingertips on his lips. “I refuse to think about anything other than what I’m feeling, wanting, needing,” she said. “We mustn’t think, Ryan, either of us. This is our stolen night. There are no yesterdays, no tomorrows, just the now. Make love with me, Ryan, please.”

  With a groan that rumbled from low in his chest, he kissed her once more, then swung her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. The lamp from the living room cast a nearly ethereal rosy glow over the small room.

  He set her on her feet, and she flipped back the spread and blankets on the bed to reveal the sheets. Ryan stared at the bed, his heart thundering so violently it echoed in his ears.

  The pattern on the sheets and pillowcases was a multitude of pastel-colored butterflies.

  Yes, his mind hammered. Yes. Perfect. There they were, the butterflies from his dream. This, what was happening with Deedee, was all a dream. Real but not real. A step apart from the world as he knew it.

  Making love was often called the ancient dance of man and woman together. He was about to dance among the butterflies…with Deedee.

  He looked at her again, then framed her face in his hands. He kissed her softly, tenderly, the whispery caress causing her to tremble. Their eyes met and held. Messages of raging desire were sent and received.

  Ryan stepped back and they removed their clothes, allowing the garments to fall to the floor in unheeded disarray.

  Then they stood naked before the other, each visually tracing every glorious inch of the one within their view.

  Ryan was like a wondrous statue, Deedee mused dreamily. He’d been chiseled from the finest marble by a master craftsman, then bronzed to a warm, rich tone. Each section of his magnificent physique was perfectly proportioned to the next, his muscles ropy, his body powerful.

  Brown curls, a shade darker than the sun-lightened hair on his head, covered his broad chest, then narrowed at his belly. A smattering of hair covered his strong legs.

  His arousal was a bold declaration of all he would bring to the dark haven of her femininity.

  Oh, Ryan.

  Ryan drank in the sight of Deedee—her small, firm breasts, the gentle slope of her hips, the nest of strawberry blond curls at the apex of her thighs. She was beautiful, like a delicate china doll, with skin that appeared like ivory velvet.

  Deedee.

  He lifted a hand, palm up, extending it toward her, not caring that she could see how it trembled. She raised her hand and placed it in his.

  It was such a simple gesture, two hands nestled together, one large and callused, the other small and soft.

  Two hands. Joined.

  It was a symbolic affirmation of the journey they were about to take that would result in the joining of their bodies, meshing them into one entity.

  They looked at their hands, but neither spoke, couldn’t speak, as emotions flooded through them, unnamed, unknown, but making words impossible.

  Ryan tightened his hold, and Deedee stepped forward into his waiting embrace. He kissed her as his hands roamed over her silken skin, cupping her buttocks, lifting, pressing her to the cradle of his hips.

  She leaned against him, suddenly weak from the heated flames whipping through her. Ryan raised his head and picked her up, placing her gently among the butterflies in the center of the bed.

  Deedee’s arms floated upward, welcoming him.

  He stretched out next to her, bracing himself on one forearm, his other hand splayed on her flat stomach.

  “You’re so lovely, Deedee Hamilton,” he said hoarsely, looking directly into her smoky brown eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful, too, Ryan MacAllister,” she whispered. “You truly are.”

  He kissed her, then moved his lips to one of her breasts, drawing the sweet bounty into his mouth, laving the nipple into a taut button with his tongue. He shifted to the other breast, paying homage there, as well.

  Deedee purred in pure womanly pleasure, then the sensuous sound became a near sob of heightening need as Ryan’s hand skimmed lower to find the moist curls that shielded her femininity.

  Ryan’s hand stilled and he lifted his head to look at her.

  “Deedee,” he said, his voice gritty with passion, “listen to me for a minute. Are you protected, prepared for this?”

  “What?” she said, struggling to focus on what he was saying.

  “Birth control.”

  “Oh. Yes. Yes, I’m protected. I haven’t been with anyone in such a long time, but I’m on the pill because my body doesn’t regulate things too well on its own. It’s all right, Ryan.”

  He dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

  “Thank goodness,” he said. “If I had to stop now, I’d probably blow a circuit. I want you so much.”

  “I want you, too, Ryan. I truly do. Now. Please, Ryan, you’re driving me out of my mind.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re so small and delicate.”

  “I won’t break. Ryan, please just shut up and—”

  “Do it,” he said, chuckling. “Your wish is my pleasurable command.”

  He kissed her once more, then shifted over her and entered her.

  “Oh-h-h, yes,” she said with a soft sigh. “Yes.”

  He began to move, slowly at first, then increasing the tempo. Deedee lifted her hips to bring him deeper within her, matching his rhythm.

  It was ecstasy.

  It was wild, pounding, glorious.

  Deedee clung tightly to Ryan’s shoulders, feeling the taut, bunching muscles beneath her hands. The heat within her began to swirl and coil low in her body, building to a wondrous tension that seemed to lift her up and away. She savored each thundering thrust that Ryan made, meeting them beat for beat.

  Higher…

  Reaching…reaching…

  Incredible, Ryan’s mind hummed. So good, so good. Deedee was tight and hot around him, drawing him deeper within her, giving him as much as he was giving her. They were fantastic together. Oh…man.

  On and on…

  Higher and higher…

  Then…

  “Ryan!”

  Deedee was flung into oblivion, and Ryan joined her there an instant later, a moan of pleasure from the exquisite release rumbling in his chest.

  “Dancing,” he gasped, “with butterflies.”

  They hovered there for a tick of time.

  They hovered there for an eternity.

  His last ounce of energy spent, Ryan collapsed against Deedee, his breathing labored.

  “Too heavy,” he mumbled, then rolled off her, keeping her close to his side.

  Their breathing quieted, and heartbeats returned to normal. Ryan reached down for the blankets, covered them, then sank back onto the pillow with a sigh of sated contentment.

  “Oh, my,” Deedee said, nestling her head on his chest. “Oh, Ryan.”

  “I know. You’re right. Unbelievable.”

  “Yes. Mmm, I’m so sleepy.”

  He kissed her on the forehead.

  “Then sleep, little butterfly.”

  “Butterfly?”

  “Never mind,” he said.

  Deedee drifted off into blissful slumber, and a few minutes
later Ryan closed his eyes and slept.

  Hours later, Deedee stirred and slowly opened her eyes. She glanced at the clock, saw that it was 3:14 a.m., then turned her head to look at Ryan. She frowned at the empty expanse of bed next to her.

  Maybe he was getting a drink of water, she mused sleepily.

  She fluffed the pillow, wiggled into a more comfortable position, then closed her eyes again, allowing thoughts to float in at will.

  Ryan. Their lovemaking had been so beautiful. She couldn’t remember having ever experienced such ecstasy, such fulfillment.

  It was as though she and Ryan had been created just for each other, were meant to mesh their bodies, be one, like two perfectly matched pieces of a magical puzzle.

  This night had been glorious.

  This night? her mind echoed as she opened her eyes again. It was closer to the ever-famous “morning after.” Was she sorry, filled with remorse, regret, over what she had done?

  No, oh, no. She would cherish the memories, treasure them like precious gifts. The stolen night was hers to keep in her heart, mind and soul.

  With morning came reality. Well, so be it. She once again had a past and a future, as well as the now of the present.

  The past. Jim. Her darling Jim. Her beloved, who had, indeed, forgotten her birthday, which she now remembered they never did celebrate. She’d cried tears of disappointment and hurt in solitude.

  Jim. She had taken second place, always, after the airplanes. His greatest joy came from flying through the heavens, pushing the envelope, taking daring chances and declaring himself to have “the right stuff.” Being her husband, lover, friend, had never come first with Jim Hamilton.

  She’d loved him so much. She’d forgiven him so much.

  And it was time to face the truth.

  Her marriage to Jim had not been perfect.

  She’d buried the hurt and unhappiness so deeply within her, she’d truly forgotten there had been bad times along with the good. Jim’s death had shattered her, caused her to cringe in emotional fear of ever loving again.

  Ryan had been right when he’d said she was hiding in a fantasy.

  Deedee drew a shuddering breath.